In the great halls of Kingfisher, whispers drift on the sea-breeze,
Their doom-predictions keenly watched, stock value to appease.
The wrath of Citi's neutral glare, alterations in sight,
In the fierce storm of commerce, lowly Neid-fire's light.

Ocado, like Fenrir, races 'gainst time, in glory and strife,
Unchanged stands its year-end goal, on the edge of Skofnung's knife.
Rising the tide of revenue, by Thor's might, it increases,
Into the final quarter slides, where the rough turmoil ceases.

To the hot sands of Arabia, where camels doth make their rest,
Tesla courts the desert king, in a crucial test.
Early are their whispered talks, under the blazing Sunna's stare,
A storm of steel and lightning may soon rise in the desert's glare.

by Æthelred the Skald

a centaur